


Growing Up (It Really Fucking Sucks)

by DetectiveRoboRyan



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Awkwardness, Because nothing like gay crush drama to deal with when your parents are dead, Cultural Differences, Dead Parents, First Kisses, Fluff, Genderfluid Lucina, Growing Up, Growing up is hard and no one understands, Humor, Multi, Pre-Canon, Prequel, Puppy Love, Self-Discovery, Teenage Drama, Teenagers, Trans Kjelle, Trans Laurent, Worldbuilding, character-driven, discontinued, first crushes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-16 08:33:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5821534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DetectiveRoboRyan/pseuds/DetectiveRoboRyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prequel to <i>The End Days.</i> In the eight years after the end of the world began, but before Lucina's Army rallied behind their young leader, there was a group of children trying their hardest to grow up in the relative safety of Castle Ylisse, and the bonds of friendship and loyalty they forged.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Youth

**Author's Note:**

> And you fuckers thought i was done.
> 
> (Props again to missinginmayhem for betareading for me!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Little prince, little prince,_   
>  _Set aside your soldiers and your sword._
> 
> _Little prince, little prince_   
>  _Golden are the days peace rains over your halcyon dreams._
> 
> \--Old nursery rhyme, loosely translated from mid-Ylissean.

The evening air was damnably hot, a heavy and sticky sort of heat that felt like you could swim in it if you tried hard enough— the kind that made mosquitoes spawn by the hundreds and hunt for fresh blood. Even within the stone walls of Castle Ylisse, nobody was safe from the occasional bug. The late July haze was a paradise for the little suckers, and unfortunately for the residents, there wasn't enough stone in the halidom to keep the haze out.  
  
Against Lucina's little fingers, the stone was blessedly cool, though the rest of her felt just as unpleasantly sticky as anything would in that particular brand of heat. Although it wasn't very princesslike (and she just knew Lady Maribelle would scold her about it), Lucina had hiked the sleeves of her tunic up over her shoulders, and the lacing at the neck was undone and tugged down in a desperate yet futile attempt to cool herself. Her knees and elbows were skinned and scraped as always, her palms blistered from her swordsmanship training, and as always, her hair was mussed and sticking up six ways to Sunday— not very princesslike at all.  
  
It also wasn't very princesslike of her to be crouching outside the door to the strategy room, her ear to the keyhole, but as per usual with whether or not she was behaving in a manner deemed proper for her station, Lucina didn't care. If Aunt Lissa wouldn't let her attend the strategy meetings, well, she'd attend them herself.  
  
The shuffle of papers told her the impromptu Council of the Halidom was moving on from equipment distribution and into something else, so she pressed her ear closer in an effort to hear every single one of her aunt's words. They had to let her attend someday, after all— until then, it wouldn't do her any good if she didn't know what anybody was talking about.  
  
"… should probaby be okay," Lissa was saying. "Scout groups four and thirteen should be back soon with the word on the southern aqueducts, and with most of them being aerial units, they should be able to stay out of range of the Risen just fine. And then… who do we have on detail for recieving the supply shipment from Ferox?"  
  
"That should be…" from the sound of their voice, it was Ricken speaking. "Five through eleven, and still nothing from either of the Khans."  
  
"Still nothing," Lissa sighed. "Well, drats, I was hoping they'd have information on how they're dealing with the Risen, or if Plegian bandits are still trying to cross their borders."  
  
"Plegia has been oddly quiet," Frederick commented, with a clanking of plate armor that Lucina guessed meant he'd folded his arms. "We may only imagine what this means."  
  
"What it means is that we don't have living enemies knocking on our door in addition to the undead ones," Lissa said frankly. "They could be having their own problems. Since the war ended, they've been stuck in a power vacuum on the political front. Their High Priest might've taken the lead temporarily, but we just don't know how stable that is."  
  
"And what of the Grimleal?" Maribelle brought up. "Surely this is something to do with them. We certainly didn't rid the world of them when we fought them those months ago."  
  
"Maybe, but I'm not sure," Lissa replied. "Since we haven't seen Plegian hide nor hair since June. According to Donnel's report, they haven't even been near the border."  
  
Ricken hummed. "Lissa, you don't think we're too spread out, do you?" he ventured. "Ylisse is a big country, even if most of its people at this point have congregated here. I'm no Robin, but that doesn't sit well with me, tactically speaking."  
  
At the mention of the missing queen, the room quieted. If Robin were there, she'd know the right thing to do in a heartbeat. Not only had she been Ylisse's strategist and Queen Consort, she knew Plegian tactics inside and out, and given five minutes of watching the Risen, she'd know the way they acted, too. But Robin was gone, vanished without a trace three days after the Shepherds returned home. It wouldn't have hurt Lucina so much if Marcus had stayed, but he was gone, too. Her whole family, gone in less than a week— that wasn't the kindest experience for a girl of twelve to go through.  
  
Lissa hummed. "That may be worth doing," she admitted. "Let's visualize it. I'll get another map."  
  
Lucina heard her aunt's footsteps approach the door, and in an instant, she panicked, jolting back from the door too quickly. Her back hit the suit of armor stationed outside the strategy room doors with a _BANG_ that echoed through the dark hallway, and undoubtedly made the rest of the Council jump.  
  
Lissa knew what it was before she could see Lucina in the shadowy hall, and scowled. "Lucina."  
  
Lucina hung her head in the exact way she would if she were four years old and caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "Hi, aunt Lissa."  
  
"What have I told you about eavesdropping?" Lissa scolded, her hands on her hips, making Lucina squirm childishly.  
  
Although they were nearly equal in height, Lissa had far more mass and presence than Lucina. Her aunt wasn't tall, but she had the broad, stocky build of an axe-swinging army doctor that had been in more battles now than she cared to talk about. Her straw-colored curls were always roughly pushed back with a cloth, a healer's cloth mask dangling around her neck and ready to be pulled over her mouth and nose at a moment's notice. She cared little for appearances, but nobody blamed her for the dark shadows beneath her eyes anyway. Lissa was an Exalt that refused titles and crowns, and pushed aside her own desires for the needs of her country. In a time like theirs, she'd say, nobody needed a figurehead for a ruler. They needed someone who would act.  
  
"I'm sorry," Lucina mumbled, fiddling with the bandages wrapped around her hands. "But I want to know what's going on! I'm the princess, and Ylisse is my country too, isn't it? I want to know what's happening so I can help, however I can."  
  
Lissa deflated, looking at her niece with lowered shoulders. All she saw was her brother standing there— twelve years old and demanding to be let into war strategy meetings because _I'm the prince and it's my country too,_ clutching the sheathed Falchion he hadn't let out of his sight since the Council presented him with it as if it'd give him the authority to make them let him in. Lucina had a good heart, a heart that more often than not directed her in her everyday decisions, and perhaps it was for that reason Lissa was hesitant to let her in. Chrom's death was still fresh, and Lissa had seen it with her own eyes. She wasn't sure she was ready to have her niece follow in his footsteps.  
  
"You're not ready yet, Lucina," Lissa finally said, setting a hand on the girl's shoulder. "I know you want to help, but—"  
  
"I'm too young?" Lucina interrupted, despite knowing it was rude. "Is that it? M-maybe I am, but… but I know I can handle the strategy meetings! Please, aunt Lissa? I'll just listen, I won't try to mess anything up or anything like that!"  
  
She sounded so much like her father. But the key difference was that Chrom had been wanting to attend strategy meetings that consisted mostly of trade negotiations and road planning, not what could literally make or break the country. Chrom had had his sisters and a full castle staff and the Council of the Halidom. Lucina barely had her aunt, and it showed.  
  
Lissa sighed, looking at Lucina's pleading face and the tears forming at the corners of her eyes. She should say no— really, she should. But how could she? Lucina was old enough to understand that the halidom was falling, that people were dying within the walls or going out and never coming back. She knew that her family was gone, be it to the hands of death or the responsibilities of being in charge or just vanishing without a trace, and at any given moment, she or anyone around her could be next. It was a heavy burden to bear on those little shoulders of hers.  
  
"Not yet," Lissa caved. "You're not ready. But I know you will be soon, Lucina. You have a good heart."  
  
Lucina furrowed her eyebrows. "A good heart?" Now what did that mean? Lucina would've preferred if her aunt had given her a concrete point in time— when she was thirteen, or when she started to train with a real sword, or when she could give a whole speech in front of people without starting to cry halfway through.  
  
"You're so much like your father," Lissa found herself mumbling, brushing a strand of Lucina's messy hair behind her ear, away from her left eye. "You'll be great someday, Lucina. I know it."  
  
Lucina didn't know what that meant, either, but being like her father was more often than not meant as a good thing. (Unless mother said it in that exasperated voice she used— _"You and your father,"_ she'd always say when Lucina broke something during practice.) Still, she nodded reluctantly, not sure what else to do. Her father's friends all did that sometimes. Was she really that much like him without even trying?  
  
Lissa patted her shoulder. "Maybe next meeting," she promised. "Alright, Lucina? Now you ought to get to bed. It's getting dark."  
  
Lucina perked up right away. "Yes, ma'am!" she agreed, nodding excitedly at the promise. "I'll be good! I promise I will!"  
  
Lissa had to smile, just a little, as Lucina took her training sword and sprinted back down the hallway with a spring in her step, her footsteps bouncing off the stone. Her smile faded when Ylisse's princess turned the corner, though, her hands falling to her sides.  
  
"Oh, Lissa," Maribelle sighed, coming up behind her. "You don't think you're babying her, even a little? She's nearly a woman now."  
  
"Well, maybe a bit," Lissa admitted, turning to face her longtime friend. "But she's still so young, Maribelle, and I'm all she has left. I want her to feel like she's safe and protected, for at least a little while longer."  
  
Nobody could aruge with that. Although Lucina was the one with foresight, it was safe to say that most of the Shepherds left knew that safety wouldn't be something they could give the princess forever.


	2. Fourteen

The fact that, two years later, Ylisse was still relatively stable was not a fact that was necessarily surprising to anyone, given how hard Exalt Lissa and the Council had worked, but Lissa herself still couldn't quite believe she'd managed to run the show for this long and it hadn't collapsed in on itself. She had never considered herself ruling material, and though part of that was because her Brand had never surfaced, another part was that she was just plain scared of being in charge. Nonetheless, she tried to do the memory of her siblings proud, and with the help of Frederick and Maribelle and Ricken and the remainder of the Shepherds, Lissa kept things afloat reasonably well. Her people needed someone to follow, after all, so who was she to deny that?  
  
Still, she had to admit that Lucina would be much better at it, with a little work. Perhaps that was her own self-doubt talking, but no one could deny that Lucina took after her father in manners of charisma. At fourteen years old, Lucina was a lanky tomboy that wanted more to master Falchion and avenge her parents in the battle against Grima than become an Exalt of the people, like Lissa had unintentionally become. But although she was, technically, old enough to be considered a woman, Lissa wasn't about to step down and pass that hefty burden of leadership to her niece. Lissa had been young, yes, but she'd watched what bearing that torch at fourteen could do to someone. It'd nearly torn her sister apart.  
  
After all, Lissa was the adult here, and as far as blood relations went, the last one Lucina had left. The least she could do, Lissa had decided, was keep it that way for as long as she could.  
  
Though it wasn't like Lucina could fully understand her aunt's reasoning. As far as she was concerned, that was all grown-up stuff that she didn't really get, no matter how much anyone tried to explain it to her. Not even Ke'tu seemed to get it, and Ke'tu was sixteen— he was practically a grown-up himself.  
  
If he were so grown-up, though, Lucina thought to herself as she brushed the dirt off her knees, accepting the hand he offered to help her up after he knocked her onto the loose dirt of the training arena, the least he could do was let her win just once.  
  
"You fought well today, milord," he said, giving her a low smile. "Another year and 'twould be unsurprising if you bested me."  
  
"You're only saying that," Lucina grumbled. "I know you're better than me, Ke'tu."  
  
"An Exalt—" Ke'tu began, but the higher-pitched voice of his younger sister caught him off-guard.  
  
"An Exalt must be peerless in combat," Marti interrupted, puffing out her chest and holding up a finger in a nearly spot-on impression of her brother. "Swift as a coursing river, with all the force of a great typhoon. Fie, brother, give milord a rest."  
  
Ke'tu scowled. "Haven't you a task?"  
  
Marti rolled her eyes. "Tasks, tasks," she grumbled, sighing and returning her attention to rolling bandages. "Haven't you a task as well, brother? 'Twould be good for _you_ to get on to it, and off of me."  
  
The basket of finished bandages was nearly full thus far, and there was always a steep demand for more. In their trying times, it was lucky that most of them were deemed sanitary enough to wash (in boiling water with bleach, to be safe), but they were always wearing out or becoming too contaminated with infectants to reuse. As such, ripping up old sheets and curtains and tablecloths for use often fell to the junior medics— Lucina was certain that was why Brady had been complaining about the menial task as well.  
  
Tying up the last bandage, Marti stood and picked up the basket. "I'm going to take these to the Northwest wing," she decided. "Good job today, milord. I expect you'll match my brother soon."  
  
"I'll go with you," Lucina offered. "Do you want me to carry the basket? It looks full."  
  
 "'Tis nothing for me, milord," Marti dismissed. "But 'twould be appreciated if you made sure my brother didn't miss lunchtime again, or I'll eat his dessert."  
  
Ke'tu scowled. "Sister, is that really necessary?"  
  
 "As necessary as your midday naps," Marti said pointedly. "Don't pretend you don't take them. I can and will eat your dessert."  
  
Lucina giggled. "I will, don't worry," she agreed. "I'll keep him in line."  
  
Marti gave Lucina a thankful grin and walked off, hefting the basket on her knee every few steps. Ke'tu scowled, but he knew Marti was right— naps at lunchtime were nice, but ran the risk of extending through mealtime. Even if it'd only been a few times, he'd never hear the end of it if he dozed off again.  
  
"Milord, might I suggest you see your aunt?" Ke'tu suggested. "She may have something you can help with."  
  
"Oh, of course!" Lucina nodded empathetically, tightening her tangled hair in its tail out the back of her head. "I'll meet you for afternoon sessions once the lunchtime dishes are done. Thank you again for today, Ke'tu!"  
  
She bobbed her head to him in respect, and then sprinted back along the path to the castle, leaving Ke'tu to shake his head and marvel at just where she stored all her energy.  
  
Lucina took the few steps leading up to the exterior corridor in one go, careful not to bump into anyone and distrupt the flow of traffic as she started walking towards where her aunt may have been. It wasn't unusual for the halls of Castle Ylisse to be bustling with people going about their business, but in Lucina's day and age, business wasn't just Council members and staff going from place to place. Now there were people carting supplies back and fourth, healers rushing where they may be needed, crafters and repairmen bound for the next wall that needed re-sealing, officials checking off lists of inventory, and messengers taking orders and reports to Exalt Lissa and her Council. The younger set, like Lucina, could be found doing many of those things at any given time— being too young for manual labor but old enough to be useful meant that most of them were designated errand-runners. Lucina didn't mind that so much, though. She liked being helpful.  
  
Castle Ylisse was still as massive and magnificent as it had ever been, even with the change in atmosphere. If anything, it felt as if the place had gotten grander, as if it were finally being used for its true purpose. As if being full of all kinds of people working towards a common goal had made its walls stand a little stronger and its flags fly a little higher, its torches burn a little brighter and the banners bearing the crest of House Grace in its hallowed halls hang a little prouder.  
  
The castle really was a feat of Ylissean architecture, and it seemed only right that it sat proudly on top of the hill overlooking Ylisstol. From the outside, it was an awe-inspiring sight— viewed from the central street of the city, it was an elegant fortress of carved stone bricks, its outer walls two feet thick and every last bit of it sealed firm with tar. The Exalted line had called the castle home since the Schism, and as a testament to that, paintings of every Exalt since hung outside the throne room. Lucina knew most of them by name, and often looked at them whenever she walked by.  
  
Although the bloodline could be traced back to the Hero-King Marth and there was a statue dedicated to him in the courtyard, the earliest painting on the wall was of Exalt Emery, which at this point was over fourteen hundred years old and Lucina was still convinced that it'd turn to dust if she so much as breathed on it. Then Emery had passed the throne to Brienus, who had passed it to Tybaut and Frideric I. Iordanus had only been Exalt very briefly before Frideric II, though shortly after that Gislebertus became Exalt and passed the title to Eudes I, who had passed it to Eudes II. Then there was Frideric II, Parzifal, Selles, Selles II, Petrus I, and Ademar, none of whom Lucina found interesting, and she only remembered Pierrot because his name was fun to say.  
  
Theobaldus and Wiscard had come next, followed by Alanion I and Alanion II. Radulfus had been the Exalt next instead of Alanion III, though Lucina didn't know why, but the next three Alanions weren't really worth remembering either. Giraut III came next and Lucina didn't know where the other two Girauts were, but after Renaudin, Giraut IV and Giraut V held the throne until Droet. After Droet came Engerrand, two Bertrands, Isembard, Petrus II, and Ema, who Lucina only remembered because Ema was the first female Exalt. Then Iagos I held power for three years before Tobey and Hrothbert took turns until Iagos II, who held it for four. Edun kept the throne until Iagos III and his two-year rule, and then Lucina guessed that somebody decided the name Iagos was cursed and made everyone stop naming their sons that. Then came the unremarkable Bertrand III and then Elisabeth, the second female Exalt and the one that famously won a duel with Saerus of Valm and later married his wife. Lucina was fairly sure that was who her aunt Lissa was named after, but Lissa had never said.  
  
Lionel I was next and Lucina didn't like him much, if only because his speeches were long and boring and she had to read them. Isaac and Bertrand IV came and went in quick succession, passing the throne to Lionel II and ushering in a more familiar era of history. Almeric was the only Exalt to be depicted with a wide, good-natured grin that reminded Lucina of her father, in stark contrast to his much more somber son Wilhelm. The third female Exalt, Ymenia, came after Wilhelm and before the brothers Bardolf and Odin, who then passed the throne to Marcus I. Marcus I must've done something great in order for her parents to name her little brother after him, but Lucina couldn't rememeber what it was, if anything. Anastasia II ruled briefly next, though her brother Omar had to take up the torch after her untimely death.  
  
Lucina's grandfather, Lionel III, came after Omar and Lucina had disliked him on sight, even though he'd died long before she was born. In her textbooks, he was credited with starting the most brutal war Ylisse had had with Plegia since the Schism, for reasons deemed too secret to record. She didn't like how clearly she could see the resemblance between him and her father, and hated thinking about how her father, whom she was sure was the most forgiving man alive, could've possibly come from a warmonger like Lionel III. She always glared at his portrait when she walked by, though she knew there was very little point in that, since he was dead.  
  
Lucina's aunt Emmeryn was the next painting on the wall, and her history textbooks listed her as the current Exalt because they'd been printed during her rule, before Lucina was born. She was by far the youngest of any other Exalt depicted, and until Chrom after her, she was the only one that wasn't alone in the picture. Lucina often thought what it might've been like to meet her— if she were really as brilliant and good as her father described. For some reason, nobody liked talking much about how she'd died. All Lucina knew was mentions of 'the incident in 1415,' where Emmeryn and Consort Phila were killed, the Fire Emblem was stolen, and their two children vanished into thin air and were presumed dead. A tragedy, everyone seemed to agree. Lucina assumed she'd have found it more tragic if anybody would actually tell her what happened.  
  
The last painting on the wall was one of her father, standing tall and proud, Brand on display, looking like everything an Exalt of Ylisse should be. Her mother sat in a chair next to him, her slender hands resting on the strategy tome in her lap. She wore a pale shade of blue that complimented the navy of Chrom's shirt, draping over the copper of her skin in layers finely embroidered in shimmering silver. She sat straight, but something about her posture and composure seemed forced, and although her eyes faced the painter, she looked restrained— more like a pretty bird in a cage than the cunning, clever mother Lucina knew. Her Plegian features stuck out prominently from the rest of the porcelain-skinned Exalts on the wall, and with her skin so dark and hair so pale, she and Chrom looked as different as the moon and the sun. It was still difficult for Lucina to think about them being dead, two years after her father died and her mother left with Marcus for a destination unknown, but their names were carved into bricks in the castle wall, literally set in stone. Lucina had looked at those stones too many times for her to count, and the names were burned into her mind.  
  
_CHROM GRACE (1397-1430)_  
_A HERO'S DEATH ON THE BATTLEFIELD WITH PLEGIA._  
_MAY HIS GRACE'S SPIRIT REMAIN STRONG._  
  
_ROBIN GRACE (1397-1430)_  
_PRESUMED DEAD._  
_A FINER TACTICIAN AND QUEEN THERE NEVER WAS._  
  
_MARCUS GRACE II (1422-1430)_  
_PRESUMED DEAD._  
_THE REALM OF HEROES SHALL LOVE HIM AS YLISSE DID._  
  
It didn't seem fair. Robin and Marcus weren't even dead, though if they weren't, Lucina was sure her mother would've written a letter, at least one, to tell them she wasn't dead, or that she didn't want to be found, or something like that. Lucina didn't even care if they'd left because they were defecting to Grima's side— the silence and not knowing was driving her crazy. (Lucina knew it was a foolish thought, but she couldn't help wondering if she'd done something to drive them off.)  
  
There was an empty space where Exalt Lissa's painting should've been, but Lucina didn't think her aunt would've wanted her painting on that wall, when there was no time to sit and get one made and barely any resources to spare for the damned thing anyway. They needed canvas to pin over the windows to keep out the rain and to put over the cots of the people in the infirmary so their blood wouldn't stain and infect the padding, and it would've been wasteful to use it on a painting that may not see the end of the war.  
  
Lucina had always been told that her picture would be up there someday. Hard as she tried, she could never see it— trying to picture herself as old as her father, standing with Falchion in her hands and a crown on her head, immortalized in oil on canvas like the fourteen hundred years' worth of Exalts before her was a task that proved nearly impossible. She wondered, if that day ever came, if they'd make her wear an intricately-embroidered dress like her mother or ceremonial armor polished until it shone like her father. Somehow, she couldn't picture herself in anything but sturdy training gear and the scuffed diadem that marked her as the princess of Ylisse.  
  
The throne room ended there, and the corridor bordering the courtyard separated. If she turned to the left, she could walk up a set of stairs, past the long side of the throne room, and into the entry hall, but that wasn't her destination. Instead she followed the corridor until it turned to the right, and she was walking northwards, along the courtyard and past sets of stairs that led to the interior perimeter wall— _something small and fast came sprinting down the first set of stairs and into the hall, making southbound traffic halt in confusion and fall back in on itself; it was bound straight for Lucina and it'd run them both down the next set of stairs to the courtyard; nobody would die but it'd make both of them late to meet Exalt Lissa._  
  
She had a split second to process it before her ear perked up to the sound of small, running footsteps about to turn down the stairs to the corridor, and she knew right away that it could only be Cynthia.  
  
"Wait!" she shouted, holding out her hands to the southbound foot traffic down the corridor, just in time for a round-cheeked little girl with scabby knees and no sense of volume to sprint down the stairs three at a time, trip over her own feet, and collide with Lucina, who had braced herself for this exact purpose. That crisis averted, Lucina let out her breath and silently thanked Naga the vision, pulling Cynthia down to the empty spot by the stairs to the courtyard.  
  
"I don't think you should be running so much," she said first, releasing her younger friend's arms and raising an eyebrow. "Where's the fire?"  
  
Cynthia coughed, leaning heavily on the stone wall, and had to take a minute to get her breath back. "Not fire," she wheezed, finally calming her lungs down enough to suck in a full breath. "There's— there was— the Risen outside, they— shot someone down, um— I don't think it was— one of ours."  
  
Lucina frowned. "Someone got shot down? Where?"  
  
"Outside the— the city," Cynthia added, nodding with enough force to make her dark brown pigtails bounce. "I was gonna— gonna go tell her Grace about it! Luci, whatd'you think it is?"  
  
"It could be an ally," Lucina realized. "You should tell your father, too. He'll be glad you spotted it."  
  
 Cynthia brightened as if Lucina had lit a match. "Come on, then!" she chirped, grabbing Lucina's wrist in both of her small hands and pulling her down the hall. "We have to hurry! Papa'll wanna know about this right away!"  
  
"Don't run," Lucina chided, keeping her pace quick but not a full run. "You'll pass out again."  
  
Cynthia made a face. "I won't, either," she retorted. "What kind of a hero walks everywhere?"  
  
"The kind that doesn't push herself," Lucina said pragmatically. Being older and taller meant that Cynthia had to jog to catch up every few paces.  
  
"Lame," Cynthia stuck her tongue out. "Severa said I should practice if I wanna get stronger and be a hero someday, like Teddy, an' my mom."  
  
Lucina bit back a comment about how Severa may not have meant to give that advice with a truly helpful intention. The comparison to Cynthia's older brother also undoubtedly came from Severa, but she wasn't sure she'd call him a hero. He was about the same age as Ke'tu, and thus old enough to be considered old enough to go on missions, so Lucina didn't get the chance to talk with him very much. Before her father died, Lucina always saw him following after Frederick, though from the few conversations she'd had with him, he didn't seem like he wanted to follow in his father's footsteps. Teddy was large and soft, with gentle hands suited more for carring a rolling pin than for carrying a spear, and about as much spine as a loaf of bread. It was enough to make Lucina wonder how he was Frederick's son at all.  
  
The most likely place for Exalt Lissa to be was in the Northwest wing, since she was a trained medic as well as the one who gave out marching orders, but Lucina didn't have to look there because, as her luck would have it, her aunt was leaving the strategy room with a few books under her stocky arm and a hand gesturing vaguely as she relayed some information to sir Frederick, standing just behind her as he always did. Lucina had known Frederick all her life and he may as well have been part of the family, though aside from gaining wrinkles and silver in his hair, he hadn't changed much over Lucina's lifetime.  
  
"Aunt Lissa!" Lucina called, coming to a stop in front of her aunt. "Aunt Lissa, something's happened?"  
  
Lissa stopped what she was doing. "What's wrong?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowing in concern. "Is someone hurt? If it's that damned aqueduct again…"  
  
Lucina nudged Cynthia, who nodded empathetically. "Papa, your Grace," she began, straightening her back in an imitation of her father. "I saw a pegasus rider get shot down by the Risen outside the city, an' Luci thinks it could be an ally!"  
  
Lissa and Frederick exchanged looks, and Frederick crouched down to Cynthia's level. "Can you tell me exactly what you saw, Cynthia?" he asked patiently. "What color was the pegasus?"  
  
"I think it was black," Cynthia frowned. "It wasn't one of ours, 'cause we don't have any black pegasi, right, papa?"  
  
Frederick raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"  
  
"Yes, really!" Cynthia insisted. "It was black an' it was coming towards the castle, an' the Risen shot it down! I hope it's okay, though."  
  
Frederick glanced back to Lissa, who had pursed her lips together in thought. They stayed that way for a solid three seconds, until Frederick was about to say something, but Lissa beat him to it.  
  
"I'll lead a retrieval team," she decided, making Frederick stand back up and do a double take.  
  
"Your Grace, I— what?" he sputtered. "Absolutely not!"  
  
"Unfortunately, you don't have the authority to stop me," Lissa said matter-of-factly. "I realize you think it's a horrible idea, because what else would you think when you see a black pegasus coming from the West but a sign of Plegian invaders, but I'm still going."  
  
"Your Grace," he said through his teeth. "I don't like this."  
  
"You also didn't like it when Chrom decided to recruit the Plegian priestess we found wandering in a cornfield, and you ended up the best man at her wedding," Lissa retorted. "Prejudice does not befit you, Frederick."  
  
Frederick sighed. "Very well, but I insist you stay here. You know the dangers."  
  
"Sure, I do," Lissa shrugged. "And that's exactly why I'm going. Find Kellam and have him pull together an entourage, and we'll need to notify someone that we'll be leaving through the exterior perimeter wall."  
  
"Yes, your Grace," Frederick nodded, failing to notice Kellam standing all of four feet away. "But are you certain? This could be a trap!"  
  
"A trap from whom, exactly?" Lissa snorted. "Frederick, you don't have to worry so much. I can handle myself, remember? Or are you doubting your own training?"  
  
Frederick mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like _"you and your sister,"_ and ran a hand through his hair.  
  
"Well, it's settled!" Lissa said brightly. "Come on, Lucina. You can come, too."  
  
Lucina's face lit up. "I can?" she said incredulously.  
  
"Lucky!" Cynthia pouted, tugging at Frederick's hand. "Papa, I wanna go too! Please?"  
  
Frederick clutched his heart with his hand. "Your Grace, you can't be serious! No, Cynthia, you're too young."  
  
"Of course I'm serious," Lissa insisted. "Lucina, do you think you're capable of coming along on a real mission, where you may have to fight real things?"  
  
"Yes!" Lucina nodded enthusiastically. "Ke'tu says I'm improving, and you know I'm strong enough to weild Falchion and keep up with the rest of the soldiers, you've seen it!"  
  
"But— but— Lucina?" Frederick sputtered. "Your Grace!"  
  
"Yes, I believe that's what I said, is that I want Lucina to come, too," Lissa nodded. "Don't you worry your pretty little head, Frederick. We'll all come back safe and sound, and we may have someone new join our cause today, if all goes well."  
  
"My pretty little head is worried for good reason," Frederick sighed. "Your Grace, princess, please promise me you won't do anything rash."  
  
"I promise!" Lucina agreed wholeheartedly, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet at the chance to join in on an actual venture outside the castle walls, finding herself getting giddier by the second. "Don't worry, Cynthia, you'll get to go on a mission someday, too."  
  
"You're just saying that," Cynthia pouted. (She was, but that was not something Cynthia needed to know.)  
  
"I'll take Lucina to the armory," Lissa decided, setting her hand on Lucina's shoulder. "And I trust you'll be seeing us off, Frederick?"  
  
Frederick sighed in resignation, crouching and scooping Cynthia into his arms. "Of course, your Grace, and I trust you to return safely."  
  
Lissa nodded, a grin dimpling her cheeks, as she led Lucina down another hallway to the castle armory. Frederick had good reason to be worried— this sort of thing was dangerous, after all, and they'd seen many soldiers die outside the castle walls. As little as he liked sending his own son out there, the idea of permitting the daughter of the man he'd sworn service to was even less appealing. But it seemed the time had come where it just wouldn't do to keep sheltering the children from a world they may have to fight through themselves, even if, for the moment, Lissa would do anything to prevent that.


	3. Blue

Lucina wasn't sheltered. She'd been outside the castle walls before, and had been known to enjoy escaping her guards and wandering around the city. There were other times she'd leave the city entirely to play in the forest with Kjelle and Laurent (though he'd gone by something very different, at the time, and the change had only happened very recently), so the surrounding Elylst Woods was far from unfamiliar.  
  
But there was something more exciting about being outside the walls when outside the walls meant a huge risk of running into hordes of the undead. Maybe it was that Lucina had never been in a real battle before— fighting something that'd attack back and mean it was different from whacking a sandbag or sparring with Kjelle or Ke'tu. She took it back, maybe she _was_ a bit sheltered.  
  
Perhaps it was luck, then, that kept them from being spotted by the Risen. Although Lucina had been ordered several times to stick close to her aunt, and her aunt was followed by a group of capable soldiers, she'd gotten a glimpse of one of the Risen when they hurried past, just out of range. She'd seen it between the trees, a grotesque creature with clammy gray skin that oozed and dripped its corrosive acid everywhere. It was disgusting, and though Lucina should've been horrified, she had the fascinating urge to poke it and see if it'd melt her finger, or if it'd just squish like clay.  
  
When they came upon the crash site, Lucina was not allowed to get a close look, because apparently a fresh corpse was too sensitive for her little princess eyes to handle, no matter how much she craned her neck around the soldiers to see. So out of sheer stubbornness, while her aunt checked to see if the corpse had any possible identification so they could at least give her a proper memorial, Lucina wandered off.  
  
The forest somehow felt very different when she got a few yards away from the rest of the rescue squad. Lucina tried to ignore how her hands made Falchion's blade shake badly enough that she had to sheathe it, and how her knees trembled when she tried to take a step. For some reason, it felt as if the woods were staring at her— as if the trees were holding their breaths, waiting for a creature of death to come crashing through the undergrowth and run her through on a pike.  
  
Lucina caught her breath. Somewhere, not far away, someone was breathing, and they sucked in an uneven inhale every few seconds, letting it out in halting hiccups.  
  
"Hello?" Lucina dared to murmur, her hands on the hilt of her sword. "Is somebody there?"  
  
The sound stopped, but Lucina stepped forwards, her ears alert for when it began again. There was, without a doubt, somebody out there— somebody crying, trying to muffle it and failing.  
  
"I won't hurt you," she said next. "It'll be alright. Were you with that pegasus rider that crashed?"  
  
Nothing. Lucina took a breath and let go of her sword, pushing a shrub aside.  
  
"My aunt will want to meet you, wherever you are," she continued. "She's really kind, and won't let anything bad happen to you, and neither will I! So it's okay."  
  
Nothing. She turned, wondering if it was just her imagination.  
  
Then she heard the breath again. "H-here," someone called, their voice barely above a murmur. "I-I'm over here."  
  
"Okay, I'm coming," Lucina replied, turning to the source of the sound. "Are you hurt? What's your name?"  
  
The voice didn't respond, but Lucina could swear she heard them take another shaky breath. It sounded like a girl, as far as Lucina could tell, but then again, so did Laurent. You never could tell with voice alone. She stepped carefully over another dying shrub, ignoring the scratches on her hands from the brambles, and finally saw the owner of the voice.  
  
They probably were a girl, in all likelihood (but again, you couldn't always tell), and from what Lucina could tell, she wasn't from Ylisse. She looked about Lucina's age, maybe a little younger, and her skin matched Lucina's memory of her mother perfectly. There were streaks of violet paint on her face that may have once had a pattern, but had been marred by activity and by smears of blood and dirt and the tracks of tears on her cheeks. Her eyes were blue, clouded over in white, though the shade itself was lovely and that came before the thought that she probably couldn't see out of them.  
  
Lucina crouched next to her, ignoring the way the brambles dug into her knees. "Hey, are you alright?" she asked— which may have been a dumb question, considering Lucina had just heard her crying. "What's your name?"  
  
"Saria," the girl mumbled, her eyes focused on nothing. "We're in… Ylisse, aren't we?"  
  
"Yes, we're just outside Ylisstol," Lucina confirmed. "Was that where you were trying to go?"  
  
Saria nodded. "My mother said we were going to see the Exalt. Do you know them?"  
  
"Yes!" Lucina said earnestly. "She's my aunt! Does that mean you were going to join our army?"  
  
"I don't know," Saria shrugged. "Mother told me that if anything happened to her, to find Ylisse and the Exalt. Is your aunt a good person?"  "She's the best," Lucina agreed. "My aunt Lissa is the Exalt, and she has a lot of responsibilities in this day and age, but she still has time for me and my cousins, and all my friends, too."  
  
Saria blinked. "And you're the princess?"  
  
Lucina shrugged. "They keep telling me that, yes. My name is Lucina."  
  
"My mother says I would've been a princess, if we hadn't had to leave Plegia," Saria murmured. "Is she…"  
  
"Was your mother the one on the pegasus?" Lucina asked, her face falling. "I'm…"  
  
"She's dead, isn't she," Saria said bluntly. "I knew it."  
  
Lucina swallowed. She wanted to say she was sorry, but she'd been on the recieving end of that sentiment, and it never did feel genuine. Tears had started dripping down Saria's cheeks again, and she didn't seem to care when she rubbed them right into the bloody scratches on the bridge of her nose. Lucina wondered what was up with the jagged sword Saria had on her back— surely she couldn't use it, since using a sword like that took physical strength that Saria certainly didn't look like she had (though how cool would it be if she _did_ use that sword? Lucina would've fallen in love instantly).  
  
"Hey, it'll be alright," Lucina promised. "Can you come back with me and my aunt? There's a place for you in Ylisstol, and we'll give your mother a brick, too."  
  
"A brick?" Saria looked puzzled, hitching her hands in the faded fabric of her dress.  
  
"That's how we honor the fallen," Lucina explained. "We take their name and house, and the years they lived, and put it on a brick in the castle wall. There's… well, there's a lot of names up there."  
  
Saria seemed to understand. "That's a nice thing to do."  
  
"Can you stand?" Lucina asked. "I'll take you back to my aunt. I wasn't supposed to wander off, but… but if I met you, I think it's worth it!"  
  
She grinned broadly, taking Saria's hand in her own. Saria's ears pricked up when she did, her hand tightening around Lucina's.  
  
"You're blue," she said. "I've never met anybody blue before."  
  
Now it was Lucina's turn to look puzzled. "Well, it's my favorite color," she admitted. "And my hair is blue, and I always wear it. Is that what you mean?"  
  
"No, no, you're blue," Saria insisted, squeezing her hand tighter. "It's how I see things. I can't explain it, but you're blue."  
  
"I don't mind being blue," Lucina shrugged. "I like blue. Like your eyes, kind of."  
  
"Well, they don't work," Saria said pragmatically. "So you're a different shade of blue. Like… blueberries, and what happens when you touch a window while it's raining."  
  
Lucina had never quite heard anything like that before. "What do you mean that you've never met anybody blue?"  
 "Everyone in Plegia is always orange or purple or red," Saria tried to explain. "My mother is silver, but she's special. Here is green and blue and gray, and you're blue, too. I like it."  
  
"Does that mean you'll come with me back to Ylisstol?" Lucina asked. "Come on, I'll carry you if you need. I'm stronger than I seem."  
  
Saria's hand went to the dirty bandage around her scraped knee. There was another around her ankle, poking out from under her shoe. It may not have been that bad, but Lucina didn't doubt that she could've used a little bit of help.  
  
"I'll take you back," Lucina offered. "Is that okay?"  
  
Saria nodded, and Lucina first pulled her to her feet, then pulled one arm around her shoulders and took her hand.  
  
"I think you'll like it in the castle," Lucina decided, leading her back to the rest of the group. "If you want me to, I'll give you the grand tour! We're not really supposed to be upstairs because the floors are starting to fall apart in places, but the first floor is really something on its own."  
  
"I'd like that," Saria said quietly. "Thank you, Lucina."  
  
Lucina beamed. Perhaps it was her gift of foresight, but she could feel the beginning of something good.


	4. Prayer

The sun was setting over Castle Ylisse, and Saria could tell because the cool blue shadows were starting to creep longer over the stone floors. When the sun hit them, it turned them a warm orange, but where it didn't, her fingers met a cool grayish-blue instead— this was always how she could tell night was beginning to fall.  
  
But except to run her fingers across the name carved into stone, Saria dared not touch the castle wall, lest her mortal hands interfere with the connection to the afterlife. Had she been able to read it instead, she wouldn't have touched the stone at all, but she had to make sure she was facing the right one, so she figured Grima would make an allowance for that. Her head lowered, hands clasped, Saria took a breath of the evening air and began her prayer.  
  
_My Lord Grima, heed the humble request of your mortal daughter in faith,_ she began. _Hear my request, arisen mother; to you I call upon from the realm of the living, by His power to bridge life and death. Hear me, my Lord, for I wish to speak._  
  
It was a textbook-perfect prayer, but Saria waited a second for it to take before beginning again anyway. One couldn't be to careful with these things— her Grima may have been a being accepting of mistakes, but Saria had had it drilled into her since she could talk that prayers have to be done a certain way, and she wasn't about to abandon all her lessons now.  
  
_Mother, if you can hear me,_ she prayed, her clasped hands tightening. _You don't have to worry about me here. The Ylisseans have accepted me into their army, and I know I'll get used to the castle in time. Their princess Lucina already gave me a tour. I only wish you could've taken it with me, mother._  
  
_The Exalt, Exalt Lissa, is kinder than I'd expected. She's a very nice yellow, though, like those buttercup flowers we found in the market once, so I should've expected her to be a kind person. She taught me how to set a broken bone yesterday, and how to stitch a wound even though I can't see it. It has to do with memorizing the motions— I haven't quite gotten it yet, but I'm sure I will with practice. I'm very grateful that things worked out this way, although aside from Exalt Lissa and Lucina, I haven't yet been able to really be friends with anyone, so it's a bit lonely. Although I know life and death happen regardless of what we want, I still wish you were here with me._  
  
_I may be the only Plegian here. I know you said we probably be, but it's still a bit strange. There are so many blues and greens here, instead of the red and orange and purple that Plegia is. But like the Tomes say, I'll adapt and be strong, like Lord Grima would want me to be, and like you would be. I can only hope I'll ever possess half your strength, mother._  
  
_Lucina has many friends— I met them on her tour yesterday. Severa and I got along well, though she's a brighter pink than I've ever seen before and it sometimes hurts to listen to her talk. She's always talking to Kjelle, who is also Lucina's sparring partner. I don't know how pink and dark brown mesh as well as they do, but somehow, they do. I think Severa and Kjelle may like one another, but I can't be sure. Either way, they don't seem in a hurry to admit it. Lucina is blue, so she must balance them out. And then I met two sisters with Plegian colors, only they haven't said, so I don't know if they're Plegian at all or not. Noire is red and doesn't seem to like me very much, but maybe she's just shy? I hope I haven't scared away a possible friend. Her sister Rose is purple, and a very purplish purple like mulberries. She keeps talking about trajectory of arrows and things. Whatever trajectory is, if it involves many more arrows flying at my face, I don't think I want much to do with it. But I do think Rose has a good character, too, if she's that lovely a color._  
  
_I miss home a bit, mother, but I understand why we left. I consider it a gift from Lord Grima that I'm still alive now, but I wish He had preserved your life, too. I love you, mother, and I wish Lord Grima keeps your spirit safe in the realm of heroes. My Lord Grima, may Your kindness grant me the strength to keep faith on this uncertain road, this I humbly pray. My thanks to You._  
  
Saria lowered her hands, running her fingers across her mother's name in the bluish-gray stone once more. She doubted she'd get a noticable response. Grima worked in mysterious ways, and even if He _did_ give a straight answer, she didn't have Fell blood, so she wouldn't be able to hear it. So much for relying on divine intervention.  
  
She heard the quick footsteps before being able to assign a color to them. It was Lucina and her cobalt blue, a blue that soon enough overwhelmed Saria's perception as Lucina stood next to her, probably waving or doing some other gesture Saria couldn't see.  
  
"Evening, Saria," she said, her voice as friendly as always. "I hope I'm not interrupting your… er, what exactly were you doing?"  
  
"Praying," Saria answered briefly, because it was a sin against Grima to lie for any reason. "You're not interrupting anything. I just finished."  
  
"Oh, like Nah does sometimes!" Lucina recalled. "You pray to Naga, too?"  
  
Saria shook her head. "No, to Grima," she replied, not caring how that might've been percieved. It was the way of Grimleal— true Grimleal, not the cult kind (which wasn't even anything like Grimleal at all, and any Plegian emphasized the distinction)— to live one's life the way they decided to, without regrets or denial of the self.  
  
She could hear the frown in Lucina's cobalt voice. "Isn't Grima evil, though? Sir Frederick told me the Grimleal were the ones causing the Risen to attack, and for things to be the way they are."  
  
"I suppose," Saria shrugged. She felt herself sigh a little— she was going to have to explain it, wasn't she? Great. Saria did not look forward to that.  
  
"So then why do you follow Grima if Grima's evil?" Lucina asked. "I don't understand."  
  
"It's just what I believe," Saria tried to say. "It's… it's just what I do. That's most of what there is to it."  
  
Lucina was quiet. She seemed to be thinking, and from the faint rustle of her hair against her shirt, Saria would've guessed she'd turned her head to look at the names on the wall. Saria still felt her blue presence standing there, close enough that if Saria turned to walk away, her cane would bump Lucina's foot.  
  
"Religion is weird," Lucina finally sighed. "It's why we're fighting in the first place."  
  
"How so?" Saria asked. She believed Lucina, of course— Plegia being a theocracy, religion and history went hand in hand. It was nearly impossible to learn about one without learning about the other just as much, and with Saria being born into the higher echelons of the church, religion and history had been the majority of her education. If there was anybody that knew the effects religion could have on people, it was Saria.  
  
She felt the air move when Lucina lifted her hands, gesturing while she tried to explain. "Because the Grimleal succeeded in creating a mortal vessel of Grima back when my grandfather was Exalt, so he started the Great War in… 1387, I think, and invaded Plegia, but nobody really won. And then he died and the war ended, so the Plegians started sending bands of attackers to Ylisse, and later on my father led the war against them and disbanded the Grimleal, but not really, because now the Grimleal are summoning and sending the Risen to attack us. And it was all started because of religious differences."  
  
That wasn't the way Saria had learned it, but history was always written by the victors. "What's your point?" she asked, instead of mentioning this. "There's always religion in politics. I don't think that started with your grandfather."  
  
"I don't understand why anybody would still side with Grima after all of that," Lucina summed up. "It doesn't make any sense."  
  
Saria felt herself bristle, though part of her knew Lucina wasn't saying it to be mean. And yet she felt a barely-repressed urge to get angry and defend her faith despite still not fully understanding what it was that drew her to Grimleal other than her mother, despite being told before they'd left for Ylisse that this may happen. That it may be hard to keep her faith, that she had to keep her head high and her shoulders straight— to follow her own path, as Lord Grima told His mortal children of spirit in ancient times. _Understand that others may not,_ her mother had said, wise words that felt like shimmering silver. Saria wished she had half of that wisdom.  
  
"I should go," she blurted, gripping the handle of her cane so tightly she felt her skin stretch over her knuckles. "I need to— I should go. Goodbye, Lucina."  
  
"Oh, um," Lucina tried to say, as Saria quickly turned and left. "Bye, then."  
  
There was only one color Saria hated, and it was white. White was the absence of color, the absence of sensation— white was what happened when she woke up in the middle of the night from a bad dream, but her mother was out and her nurse would've scolded her for being up late, and the air was unbearably still and silent and she was shaking too badly to feel the softness of her sheets or her nightgown or her quilt. Saria did not often feel truly isolated, but in times she did, it was always white that blocked her from feeling the colors that existed in everything she could hear or smell or taste or touch. It was always white, and Saria had grown to hate it.  
  
It was then that Saria became aware of the white that lingered at the edges of her thoughts. It lurked and lingered on the outlines of objects, at the end of her cane and where she put her feet. White had threatened to consume her since the crash, and it was only now she became fully aware of how alone one could truly feel.  
  
She could feel white laced into the rough beige of the woven rolls of bandages in her hands. She tried to force herself to ignore it. After all, she had work to do.  
  
It was mid-morning the day after her discussion with Lucina, and the very same distinctive cobalt was sitting on one of the low cots in the Northwest Wing, probably poking at the rough scrape on her cheek even though she knew full well she probably shouldn't. Try as Saria may, it was impossible to ignore the blue that lingered in awkward silence at the forefront of her perception.  
  
Wordlessly, Saria gently tilted Lucina's head to the side, allowing her to crouch and swab the dirt and gravel out of the wound with a rag soaked in medicinal liquid— foul-smelling stuff that made Saria's nose tingle even behind the face mask all healers wore for hygiene's sake. Beneath her hand, Lucina winced at the sting.  
  
"Don't move so much," Saria instructed, the first words she'd said to Lucina since their talk the previous evening.  
  
"Sorry," Lucina mumbled. There was another pause, thick with words on the tip of Lucina's tongue that Saria purposefully did not bother drawing out.  
  
"Um, about yesterday," she began. Saria wanted to recoil, but did not. "I'm sorry about what I said. I didn't mean to upset you." Lucina was remarkably emotionally astute, for someone so wholly consumed by her own goals.  
  
"It's fine," Saria tried to say. 'Fine' wasn't the right word for it, but Saria didn't think it was not-fine enough for her to bother bringing up. "I didn't mean to storm off."  
  
"Considering what I said, I don't really blame you," Lucina admitted. "There's a lot I don't know. I'm trying to learn, though."  
  
"Very admirable of you," Saria commented halfheartedly, taking a dry cloth and dabbing the scrape dry.  
  
Lucina shrugged. "Do you think I could try again?" she asked.  
  
 That gave Saria pause. She tilted her head, eyebrows furrowing as if she wasn't sure she'd heard right. "Try what again?"  
  
"Asking about Plegia," Lucina was eager to explain. "And Grimleal, and that sort of thing. My mother was Plegian, but she never spoke about it at all, and I know my father didn't think too highly of them after the war. But I still want to know."  
  
Saria hadn't known that. It wasn't like she could look at Lucina's skin, just a few shades lighter than her own, and be able to make a decent guess that Lucina had Plegian blood. Lucina's tongue didn't sound like it'd ever formed Plegian vowels, and besides that, she was a blue that would've stuck out like a sore thumb amidst Plegia's warmer hues. But it wasn't like anyone could blame her for not guessing.  
  
"Then ask away," Saria shrugged. "I don't know how much I'll be able to answer."  
  
She heard a smile in Lucina's voice when she next spoke, inquisitive tendrils of blue creeping past the whiteness. "What does your name mean, Saria?"  
  
"It's from a story in the old Grimleal tomes," Saria summed up. "It was the name of a priestess."  
  
"What story?" Lucina asked, leaning forward as Saria taped the bandage into place. "How did it go?"  
  
Saria couldn't deny that the corners of her mouth tilted up then, in the excitement of being able to tell one of her favorite stories to a captive audience. She told Lucina the story of a priestess that brought the word of Grima down from the stars, and gave her people the strength to break free of a cruel governing. It was a sad story, as the priestess ended up being killed for it, but lots of people died in the old stories. That may have been the point of Grimleal listing killing others as a sin.  
  
But just the one story was not enough to satisfy Lucina's curiousity. She asked for more, the earnestness with which she asked making itself the forefront of Saria's perception, blasting past the white that threatened to swallow all else. Their hands were touching, Lucina's bandaged palms clasped over Saria's small, soft hands in excitement, and for a foreign moment, Saria felt the desire to get closer, to grip her hands in return— as long as she felt blue everywhere she tried to notice, she didn't care about Lucina interrupting the stories to ask questions. When she felt blue, there was no more white. When Lucina spoke, she didn't feel alone.


	5. Envy

The sky was a powdery shade of blue over Castle Ylisse that afternoon, the ever-present layer of smoke and haze obscuring the sun's rays from reaching the ground with their full strength. A listless wind stirred the soft dirt of the training arena floor and made the dry leaves skitter around in a halfhearted dance, as if nature were trying to remember what it did when autumn came around. It seemed like it was trying to be autumn and not quite succeeding, or perhaps that whatever was controlling the changing of the season was just too tired to bother with a crisp blue sky and vibrant orange leaves, skipping straight to post-harvest dreariness that was pretty much winter without the ice. It was a mockery of what September days were _supposed_ to be like.  
  
But even with the energy-sucking dismalness of the weather, nobody was going to reschedule a sparring match for sometime sunnier, and especially not when it was Lucina and Kjelle. Not when it meant a break from the scheduled monotony of day-to-day life— and to Severa, certainly not when it meant gambling with Inigo for maple candies and bragging rights. A break from the norm, at least for a little bit, was a welcome thing among the younger members of Castle Ylisse. As such, once the scouts returned (with no news from Ferox, again, Severa had skillfully overheard), Ke'tu and Teddy wasted no time pulling together a match.  
  
The match hadn't started yet, but it seemed like it would soon. Severa rolled a twig of wheat grass between her front teeth, leaning over the splintery rail of the fence surrounding the training arena. She looked from Kjelle to Lucina, finalizing their tactics with their respective coaches and adjusting the last straps on various pieces of armor, and then leaned back. She wasn't just there to spectate, after all. Severa made it her business to know pretty much everyone in the castle, especially if they happened to be her peer. As of then, there was only one who fit that description that Severa didn't know yet— a problem which Severa intended to rectify.  
  
She leaned back on the low bench, glancing towards the girl sitting to her right. Saria was her name, Severa knew, but she knew very little aside from that. She had a pleasing kind of shape, all warm colors and soft curves, and she looked a little older than Severa, but not by much. She had darker skin than Severa had ever seen, the same sort of coppery brown Lucina had, in a sharp contrast to the milk-white of her eyes. Saria was still a new sight to see around the castle, but it was obvious she wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.  
  
"Hey," she began, shifting her twig to one corner of her mouth. "You're Saria, right?"  
  
Saria didn't so much as look at Severa as she tilted her ear to the sound of her voice. "Yes, that's me. I don't think we've met yet."  
  
"We haven't, but I think you ought to have the pleasure," Severa replied. "I'm Severa. Lucky for you, I know just about everything important that goes on around here."  
  
"That seems like a lot to keep track of," Saria commented, though Severa preened a little when Saria looked impressed. "How do you manage that?"  
  
Severa grinned pridefully. "I have my ways. I think the people have a right to know the truth of any matter." Her ways usually entailed snooping around, and the people in question usually meant her peers— who never seemed to be told anything of much importance. "But I'm not here to talk about me. Let's talk about you, shall we?"  
  
"Shall we?" Saria repeated, obviously confused.  
  
"For example," Severa began, clearing her throat. "Have you ever seen one of these sparring matches before?"  
  
"It's just fighting for entertainment, isn't it?" Saria asked. "It seems kind of barbaric, if you ask me. Exalt Lissa asked me to be the medic in case things get too rough."  
  
"Oh, it's more than that," Severa insisted. "Lucina and Kjelle have been sparring partners for ages, and from what I know, beating the snot out of each other serves the same purpose as human conversations do for you and me."  
  
"It seems awfully violent," Saria frowned. "Unnecessarily so, I mean. What do either of them have to gain from whacking each other with sticks?"  
  
Severa shrugged, twirling the twig in her mouth. "Can't say. But neither of them have died yet, and they stop the match if bones break."  
  
"Has that happened?" Saria asked, likely out of morbid curiousity.  
  
"A few times," Severa recalled. "Both of them have snapped a few ribs, or a collarbone here and there."  
  
She said it like it wasn't a big deal, but Saria paled and mumbled something foreign under her breath, hands clasped together. A prayer, maybe. Severa remembered overhearing that Saria was Grimleal— said in a hushed tone, like it was some big taboo.  
  
"They'll be fine," Severa promised. "Listen. It's about to start."  
  
She looked back towards the arena. Lucina and Kjelle had weapons at the ready, both looking rather like puffed-up beasts about to fight for dominance. Lucina's blue eyes glinted sharp and blue as a silver blade in the overcast light, not breaking her lupine glare with Kjelle as she cracked her neck and rolled her shoulders. Kjelle, meanwhile, stood firm and unyielding, feet planted wide on the ground with all the defense and stubbornness of a bristling boar, ready to counter Lucina's speed and skill with her own raw power. It was enthralling to watch, to say the least.  
  
The match began the instant Ke'tu gave permission. Lucina darted to the side a split second before Kjelle swung her lance, turning on a dime and striking with a quick jab to her unguarded side. The rest of the spectators cheered when the blow connected, though Lucina didn't have time to revel in landing the first strike. She parried Kjelle's first swing and ducked under the second, aiming to hit just below Kjelle's knees, at the seam between her greaves and knee guards. But Kjelle stepped back and caught Lucina's upper arm hard enough that it'd surely leave a nasty bruise, trying for a direct thrust to Lucina's breastplate and failing when Lucina caught the shaft of her lance on the wooden practice blade.  
  
Lucina and Kjelle may have been equally matched in terms of where speed canceled out strength, but sheer exhaustion was usually the deciding factor. Being lighter-armored, Lucina's gambit of dodging and attacking in the unguarded half-seconds Kjelle's back or side faced her ran the risk of wasting energy as much as it granted the benefit of tiring out her opponent. Kjelle was heavier and carrying a higher load, but fitness made up for that. Lucina couldn't always win on stubbornness and grit alone, even when paired with skill and speed.  
  
There was something Severa loved about watching these matches, though she'd never actually say it. She watched Lucina's lean, agile form dart around blows and parry with practiced skill, her muscles tough as the tightly-woven ropes in a catapult beneath the treated leather of her armor and the cotton weaving of her shirt and trousers. Lucina breathed heavily with exertion, beads of sweat glistening in the daylight on desert-bronze skin the sun dared not burn. Her every movement held a grace befitting of her noble status, as one would expect, but the elegance of her form and posture wasn't what enraptured Severa. Although both sparring partners knew this was a practice match, that didn't stop the striking resolve behind every one of Lucina's movments. Severa swore she could see every fiber in her being sing with determination, as if every step brought her closer to avenging her father. Lucina threw her entire being into everything she did in the same way, whether it was training or eating or running errands. Perhaps it was that raw energy, the same drive of a young wolf fighting a battle to be taken seriously and attain a place in his reckless, dangerous world, that had drawn Severa into the hopeless depths of what most called a crush.  
  
Crushes aside, Severa couldn't ignore Kjelle, either. Kjelle focused her energy on physical strength, becoming completely and utterly unbeatable, embracing the impetus of the guardian knight's code. She was unyielding iron wall, sturdy as the battlements in the castle they called home, and like Lucina— Severa had to admit, but only to herself— not hard on the eyes even during a fight. But, Severa was certain, she didn't like Kjelle in the same way she liked Lucina. Kjelle was just a friend, and Lucina was… well. Lucina was _Lucina_. That was all there was to it, even if Lucina was too socially blind to see Severa's many, many hints. She'd get it one day.  
  
Severa wasn't sure how long she allowed her mind to wander, but she snapped back to reality when Lucina, half her faced bruised and swollen, finally knocked Kjelle to the ground with a loud bang. Kjelle groaned, not wanting to admit defeat, but held up a fist of surrender. With that, the fight was over, and Severa stretched and stood.  
  
"That was a good fight," she commented, looking back at Saria. "Who were you betting on?"  
  
Saria shrugged, picking up her basket of medical supplies and climbing over the fence with more skill than Severa would expect from someone in a dress. "I wasn't betting. I don't see the point."  
  
Severa shrugged, vaulting over the fence in a swift movement she was sure would've looked much cooler if her foot hadn't caught on the fence and made her stumble on her landing. "Suit yourself."  
  
Lucina had sat down next to Kjelle on the ground, helping her undo the ties on her armor. Kjelle was grinning in absolute elation, as if she hadn't just been outmatched, her breathing still heavy from the fight.  
  
"Severa, did you see that?" she called, visibly vibrating with excitement as Severa crouched next to her. Her voice was mushy through her split lip. "When Lucina did the thing that did the other thing, and then the— the thing!"  
  
Severa raised an eyebrow, but she couldn't help but grin at Kjelle's enthusiasm. "Yeah, I did see the thing. You're happy, for someone who lost."  
  
"Losing's not important if you get stonger," Kjelle boasted. "I'm not as strong as Lucina anyway."  
  
"You're getting there," Lucina insisted. "Really! It got close for a minute there. I'm sure if I'd let my guard slip, you would've bested me, just comparing our stamina."  
  
"No, no, I'm sure you would've won anyway," Kjelle replied. Saria tried and failed to get her attention, just so she could tell Kjelle to stop moving for a second. "You're older, and have more experience. My dad says age is the best teacher."  
  
"Still, don't discount your own strength," Lucina continued. She rolled her shoulder experimentally once she'd taken her pauldron off, wincing at the tenderness. "You've beaten me before."  
  
Saria let out a short, exasperated sigh. "Yes, yes, you're both highly skilled fighters. Can I possibly do my job now?"  
  
"Sorry," Kjelle mumbled, trying to sit still as Saria cleaned her scrapes with a rag soaked in the contents of a vulnerary. "I can't wait to do that again, is all! Lucina's always so much fun to spar with."  
  
Lucina grinned shyly. "You give me too much credit."  
  
"Mm," Saria hummed. "This may sting a bit, Kjelle. Stop moving."  
  
Kjelle stopped moving. Saria seemed to use her hands to tell where a bruise or scrape was, though Severa didn't know enough about medicine to be able to accurately say how that was possible. She crouched next to Kjelle, head tilted to the side just a bit, still gnawing the stem of the twig in her mouth. Lucina was saying something to Saria that Severa wasn't really paying attention to, but something about the way they were talking made Severa acutely aware of a little twang of something small and green somewhere in her chest.  
  
Despite a weak protest from Saria, Kjelle stood up once Saria had placed the last bandage, eager as always to keep training. Severa didn't understand that girl sometimes.  
  
"It should be time for dinner soon, right?" she asked, looking to Lucina for the answer. "I hope so. I'm going to go check!"  
  
It was, but Severa would not stand for Kjelle to go running into the dining hall without even washing the dirt off her hands. She stood, making a noise of protest. "Not without cleaning up, you're not! You are not setting one _toe_ anywhere near where we _eat_ until you're clean, if I have anything to say about it."  
  
Kjelle heaved a huge, overdramatic groan, starting to walk away as Severa stubbornly jogged to keep up with her. "But I'm hungry," she complained. She was _always_ hungry. "You know, mom told me everyone eats a lot of dirt in their lifetime. Something like eight pounds a year." Which was bull, but Severa didn't know the statistic either.  
  
"Why are you trying to argue with me?" Severa asked pointedly. "Nope. Wash up first, then eat. So help me, I will bathe you myself."  
  
"Fine, fine," Kjelle grumbled. Severa smirked proudly, then spared a glance back to the training arena, where Saria had started patching the scrape on Lucina's chin. From the distance, Severa couldn't tell what they were saying, but she could see Lucina smiling, her eyes lit up with happiness, and Severa accurately named the little green feeling in her chest as jealousy. And it was ugly and petty and unbecoming, but then again, Severa was sure she was all three of those things.  
  
"You go ahead, I'll meet with you later," she decided, patting Kjelle's bandaged arm and turning to leave. "I want to check the notice board." Deciding not to argue, Kjelle shrugged and left, and Severa crept back towards the notice board conveniently placed beside the arena.  
  
She wasn't eavesdropping, she told herself (even though she totally was), but maybe if she just got a little glimpse of what was going on between them, she'd be able to put her pettiness aside. It wasn't like Lucina was restricted from being friends with people that weren't Severa, after all. (Severa kept repeating this to herself.) It was perfectly rational for her to make other friends, and smile with them, and be the one to initiate conversation instead of just going along with the conversation like when Severa tried to talk to her about anything that wasn't for an errand. And, alright, maybe it was starting to feel very much like Lucina liked Saria More Than She Liked Severa, but part of Severa figured this would happen and had already prepared a nice hot batch of self-loathing.  
  
But it was fine, it was totally fine, she insisted as she pretended to read the notice board. It was great, it was as peachy as her dad's cobbler, it was totally, unambiguously fine. Severa was totally okay with all of this. Totally fine.  
  
(It was not fine, it was not great, and it was nowhere near as peachy as her dad's cobbler. Severa was very much not totally okay with this.)  
  
"I'm glad you came out to the match today," Lucina was saying. Somehow, she sounded different than when she talked to Severa or Gerome or any of their other friends. "It means a lot that my friends show up to cheer me on."  
  
"Are you sure they were?" Saria asked, though it was a playful sort of teasing that Severa knew all too well. "Severa told me there was betting on you to lose."  
  
"Oh, there always is," Lucina said nonchalantly. "It's all among friends. I don't mind at all."  
  
Saria hummed, though she didn't seem convinced. "Your friends all seem very energetic."  
  
"They're good company," Lucina insisted. "And we're all sort of in a similar boat, since nobody's really having children anymore. So even though I'm not necessarily on friendship terms with everybody, I know there's always someone to talk to if I get lonely. And it's nice to have that bond with many different kinds of people, don't you think?"  
  
Saria was quiet, probably thoughtful, and Severa had to bite her lip to keep from sighing. This was the kind of thing that made her heart beat a little harder— the kind of thing that reminded her what kind of person Lucina really was. To her core, she was just so good, so good that Severa would've been content to be less than the dirt beneath her boots for a chance to hear things like that.  
  
"That sounds nice," Saria decided. She didn't say anything else.  
  
"Did you have many friends, when you were younger?" Lucina asked. "You've never mentioned any."  
  
"There weren't really any." Saria said it like it wasn't a big deal. Severa was reasonably sure she shrugged. "My mother was a priestess, but they don't usually have children, so I was the only one around. Except for the Queen's son, but he was too young for me to really be friends with him."  
  
"That sounds lonely," Lucina remarked, in a way so utterly Lucina it nearly made Severa groan. Must she be so nice to everyone, all the time? It made it hard to tell whether or not Severa should be jealous. Just for Lucina's sake, Severa wasn't even sure if she'd be able to hate Saria, like all those books she read (not that she'd admit it) said she should.   
  
"Well, for what it's worth," Lucina continued, forcing Severa to keep listening. "I'm glad you're here now, so now everyone can be friends. And they're kind people, I promise. Once you get to know them, and get past the varying levels of oddity."  
  
Saria giggled, a soft sound that reminded Severa of wind chimes. "I don't doubt it, if they're your friends."  
  
Severa made the mistake of glancing at them around the message board. The sight of Lucina smiling was one she liked, certainly, but the fact that she was smiling at Saria and Saria was smiling back made Severa feel especially jealous and petty. It didn't mean anything, she tried to say, but of course it did to Severa even if it didn't in all actuality, and being twelve meant this was a Very Important Happenstance that meant the End Of All Things.  
  
Her fists curled. It was not fine, she finally allowed herself to think. It was very much not fine. She was not okay with this. But she'd deal with that later, and then turned and stormed back towards the castle.  
  
For some reason, it felt like it wold be a long, long day.


End file.
